Oxygen
by allthingsdecent
Summary: There comes a time in every fic author's life when she must do a trapped in an elevator fic. This is mine. Takes place after the episode Changes.


The elevator was about to shut when a cane—House's cane, of course—blocked the doorway. House stepped in, saw Cuddy, gave her a curt nod.

It had been five days since the whole mess with Arlene and House and Cuddy hadn't spoken a word.

Of course, they didn't talk much these days anyway.

After the breakup came House's inevitable acting out stage. She knew it was coming: House was like an angry bear when provoked. But she had prepared herself mentally, steeled herself in an emotional bunker, so to speak. (The Green Card wedding had thrown her a curve, though. She'd be lying if she said that one didn't sting.)

Since then, they had settled into a kind of wary professionalism, a coldness that hurt more than House's attention grabbing cruelty.

So, just as her mother had planned, dealing with Arlene's little lawsuit drama was basically the most House and Cuddy had interacted in over a month.

But it hadn't ended well.

"We're not getting back together," House had said, putting the pieces together before Cuddy did, always solving the puzzle first.

And then he had disappeared.

"How are you?" he said now.

His politeness was actually disconcerting.

"Fine," Cuddy said, eyeing him a bit.

He pressed the fourth four button: Human resources, of course.

House drummed his fingers on his leg.

Cuddy pretended to search for something in her purse.

She couldn't get off this elevator fast enough.

Just then, the elevator, which had been humming along innocuously, giving no indication of any distress, made a kind of belching sound and lurched dramatically to a stop.

Cuddy looked at House in disbelief.

"You've got to be shitting me," she said.

"Maybe it's just a power surge," House said, furrowing his brow. He started pressing all the elevator buttons. Nothing happened.

He pressed the alarm. Nothing sounded.

"We're stuck!" Cuddy said.

"You have an extraordinary grasp of the obvious," House replied.

Cuddy looked down at her phone.

"I'm not getting any cell service," she said. "You?"

"My cell service is fine," House said.

_Finally_ some good news.

"I know this for a fact because my cell phone is in my desk in my office," he said.

Cuddy rolled her eyes a bit.

"Great," she said.

Then a horrible thought crossed her mind.

"Do you think it's a power outage? Because, if so, the backup generator isn't working. Which means we'll need to evacuate the hospital."

She was slightly frantic and he took note of that.

"I don't think it's a power outage," he said evenly. "But even if it was, don't worry about the generator. Elevators are on a separate power grid, remember?"

She snorted a bit, shook her head.

"You're right. I forgot. How do you even _know _that?"

"I dunno," House said. "I guess I've looked at the hospital blueprints a few times."

"Of course you have.

"I'm sure it's just a mechanical problem with the elevator," House said. "And I'm sure we'll be out of her before you can say, 'Gee House, I sure wish you'd worn deodorant this morning.'"

"This is a disaster."

"I'm just kidding," House said. "I actually am wearing deodorant."

But she ignored him because a second horrible thought was now crossing her mind: "You don't think my. . ._mother_ is behind this?" Cuddy said.

"Arlene?" House said.

"Well yeah…she staged that little law suit. The fire drill. I wouldn't put it past her."

"This would be a pretty elaborate scheme. I mean, waiting until the exact moment I stepped into the elevator with you to shut it down. That would require Sun Tzu levels of planning."

"You should put nothing past Arlene," Cuddy said. "She's unstoppable when she wants something."

"Like mother like daughter," he said, with the faintest hint of approval.

Cuddy looked at him.

There was an awkward silence. The first, undoubtedly, of many, she supposed.

"I never apologized for that, by the way, and I . . . should have," she said haltingly. "You behaved like an ass—surprise, surprise. But you wouldn't have had the _opportunity_ to behave like an ass if my mother hadn't gone all geriatric ninja matchmaker on us."

The corners of his mouth flinched into a tiny smile, then receded.

"Apology accepted," he said.

"I hope what my mother said didn't upset you," she said.

"Not at all," he said.

Then he rubbed his leg.

"Do you mind if I sit down? This whole _standin'_ thing isn't one of my fortes."

"Of course," Cuddy said, feeling sheepish.

And she slid down on the elevator floor next to him.

As she sat, her skirt hiked up a bit more than she expected—revealing the top of her thigh. They both noticed. She pulled it down hastily.

She looked at House again. His face was impossible to read. Cuddy had lost sleep since Arlene's sermon in the courtyard, positively obsessed over what her mother had said. She wondered if House was in a similar state.

"It was crazy what my mother said, huh?" she said, in a small talk sort of way. "About us being the only ones who can put up with each other? It's like, Gee, thanks mom." And she laughed, hoping he would join her.

Instead, he frowned.

"Yeah, crazy," he said testily.

"What? You _agree_ with her?"

She was fishing. But what was she fishing for? Her own feelings were muddled.

"Cuddy, why are you asking me this?" he said. Sometimes it was like he could read her mind.

"Just killin' time as we wait for our oxygen supply to run out," she joked.

"That's just a myth," House said.

"I know. I was kidding," she said.

He shrugged.

"Arlene believes what she believes," he said.

"I'm actually surprised she was trying to get us back together," Cuddy said, musingly. "I thought she hated your guts."

"She does," House said. "But she also knows how much I loved you."

"_Loved_," Cuddy said sadly. "Past tense."

Now he looked at her.

"What do you want from me Cuddy?"

"I don't want anything. Who says I do?"

"You act like you want me to profess my undying love for you—again."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"You're the one who broke up with me, remember?"

"Oh, I remember."

"My feelings haven't changed," House muttered.

"Please. You expect me to believe that?"

"Why would they have changed?"

"For one thing, you're married!"

"You know that marriage doesn't mean—"

"And for another thing, you've been treating me with nothing but contempt lately."

"Lately? As in ever since you DUMPED ME?"

Cuddy looked at her feet.

"Yes," she said. "I did. I dumped you. And then you . . .had a personality transplant."

"Meaning?"

"You didn't even put up a fight."

"_What?_" House was incredulous.

"Our entire relationship, any time I tell you to do something you don't want to do, you fight me tooth and nail. You filibuster, you lie, you bargain, you bully—whatever it takes. And you usually win. But I break up with you and what do you do? Immediately cave."

"I begged you not to do it," House said, a slightly defeated quality to his voice.

"And then you gave up."

"You made yourself perfectly clear. After I graveled and begged, exactly how much more of my dignity was I supposed to sacrifice?"

"You didn't even try. You were too proud to even try."

House shook his head.

"I love how _you_ break up with me, and it's somehow a sign of some sort of shortcoming on my part. You really have a marvelous ability to portray yourself as the victim, Cuddy."

"It was like you went from loving me to hating me in the blink of an eye," Cuddy said.

She didn't want to sound so hurt. It wasn't fair to sound so hurt. Everything he was saying was true.

"I think you have that twisted, Cuddy."

Her eyes widened.

"What? Me hate you? I could never hate you, House. I love you. _Still_ love you. Present tense."

"You have a curious way of showing it."

"Breaking up with you was the hardest thing I've ever had to do."

"Oh, poor baby. Cry me a river."

She looked at him, somewhat defiantly.

"I did cry House. I cried every day for a month. But you know what made me less sad? You. Being an asshole and an addict and marrying that Green Card skank."

"Well, I'm glad we've cleared this up. Speaking of my addiction—" And he pulled a bottle of pills out of his pocket and gulped down three .

"Want one?" he said, with mock cheerfulness. "It says right here on the label: Cures heartlessness."

"I'm not heartless!"

"You took your stiletto heel and ground my heart into a pulp and now you act like I'm the guilty party. I call that heartless."

"Now who's playing the victim?"

"Fuck you," House said.

"Fuck you back."

They stared at each other, their arms folded.

It was Cuddy who flinched first.

"I hate this," she said, under her breath.

"I hate it, too," House said under his breath.

"I can't tell you how much I miss us."

House looked down, said nothing. But his face looked open for the first time, hopeful.

"When I broke up with you, I don't think I realized how much I would lose," Cuddy said.

"What did you think was going to happen?" he asked softly.

"Honestly, I didn't know. I knew I couldn't be with you. What I didn't realize is that I can't _not_ be with you."

She leaned her head against the elevator wall.

Her lip was beginning to quiver. A tear trickled down her cheek.

House looked stricken..

"Don't. You know I can't stand it when you cry."

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to smile. She blinked. But instead of blinking back the tears, they were now flowing freely.

"It's so fucked up," she said, sniffling loudly.

"What's fucked up?" he said.

"This. Us. I don't recognize us anymore," she said.

"I know," he said.

Tentatively, as if testing the waters, he wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. Then he leaned forward and kissed her wet cheek.

"I miss us," she whispered again.

"I know," he said. He kissed her eyelids, then lightly grazed her lips with his own.

She kissed back, just the tiniest bit, barely parting her mouth. But it was enough.

He found her mouth again—and this time she let his tongue in and he was deep in her mouth, devouring her, and she felt that familiar desire, like she was drowning and he was her oxygen.

"I miss us, too," he said.

Now her hands were on his jaw and running through his hair she was beginning to kiss him quite greedily.

"Do you still love me?" she whispered in his ear.

"Yes," he breathed.

She climbed onto his lap. And she could feel his erection against her thigh and she experienced a heady combination of desire and relief. _He still wants me_. How had she ever, for a second, convinced herself otherwise?

"Of course I still love you," he was saying, his face buried in her neck—biting her, kissing her, his hands moving all over her. "Of course."

He began to unbutton her shirt. And when he cupped her breasts, circled her nipples with his thumbs, she gasped a bit. She had forgotten how much she craved his touch. More accurately: Hadn't _allowed_ herself to remember.

"Cuddy," he kept murmuring, stroking her hair, kissing her mouth, her neck, her chest. "Cuddy."

It was crazy. They were at work. In an elevator that could start moving at any second. With doors that could open to the hospital that she ran. And she didn't care. She wanted him inside her in the worst way.

She unzipped his jeans, pulled out his cock, guided him inside her.

"Ohmygod," he said and he clenched her ass and began kissing her with such unchecked ardor, she was afraid he wasn't going to last long.

But he regulated his breathing, and she rode him, gently at first, til they were moaning and breathing in unison, that unspoken rhythm that had always existed between them—it wasn't gone, it had just been dormant. And then they gasped and shuddered and both came, and she fell forward on him, heavy and sated, her hair tangled and wet and sticking to his skin and his hands strong on her back and her ass—and he kissed her again. She remembered that kiss: Post-coital: thick, grateful.

She reluctantly climbed off him. Put on her clothing. He snapped his jeans.

And, as if on cue, the elevator bucked, and a light came on, and the door opened.

They blinked at the sudden light.

House's team was standing there, gaping at them. So was Wilson, and Lou, the hospital's head of maintenance.

"You guys alright?" Lou said.

House and Cuddy looked at each other. Nodded.

"We're fine," Cuddy said. Hoping her voice didn't sound as funny to them as it did in her own ears.

"The stabilizer sensor was fried," Lou explained.

Whatever that meant.

She stood up, tried to exit the elevator with dignity. House followed.

That was when Cuddy noticed Thirteen discreetly gesturing toward her shirt. She looked down. Much to her horror, her buttons were completely askew.

She hastily fixed them.

"It was, uh, hot in there," she said, quickly, as if that would somehow explain her disheveled state.

"Yeah, roasting," House said.

And for the first time in her life, she saw Gregory House blush.

######

"How was the elevator ride?" Masters said, teasingly.

They were sitting around the DDx table, attempting to resume their discussion of the case.

"Looks like things went up afterall," Thirteen said.

"Did Cuddy push all the right buttons?" Chase said, with a smirk.

"I can't wait to go home and ride the elevator with my wife tonight," Taub said. "So to speak."

House shot them a lethal look.

"Nothing happened on the elevator," he growled.

"House, there's nothing to be embarrassed about—" Foreman started.

"Nothing happened on the elevator," House repeated, with an anger that made his team recoil. "And if I hear you gossiping about it, joking about it, so much as using the word elevator in a sentence, you're all fired. Get it?"

"Chillax dude," Taub said meekly.

"We get it," Masters said, gulping.

"Go run your tests, " House said.

And they scrambled.

House headed back to his desk, started tossing bally in the air. He was still trying to process what had happened on the elevator. He was thrilled, of course. But a little freaked out too.

He needed some time alone with his thoughts.

"You okay?"

He looked up. It was impossible to be alone with your thoughts when there was a James Wilson in your life.

"I'm fine," House said, tossing the ball higher. "We were only trapped for an hour or so. It was hardly the Donner Party."

"That's not what I meant. . .You and Cuddy. It looked like things got. . . hot."

"It was hot," House said. "Like 90 degrees in there. A sauna. . ."

"That doesn't explain why it looked like you and Cuddy had just run a marathon. Twice."

"I don't know what other possible explanation there could be. . ." House said. Firm eye contact.

Wilson squinted at him.

"So nothing happened between you two?"

"Nada," House said.

"And you're okay?"

"I'll be better once you leave."

Wilson began backing toward the door.

"You sure there's nothing you want to talk about?" he said.

House took his ball and pretended to hurl it at Wilson. Wilson flinched.

"Get out of here, Wilson."

"Okay. I'm here if you need to talk."

"For a change," House said.

Wilson shrugged and left.

#####

"I know it was you, Mom," Cuddy said.

"You know it was me who what?" Arlene said.

"The elevator fiasco. I know you were behind it," Cuddy said.

After getting off the elevator, Cuddy had gone into the bathroom, fixed her hair and makeup, straightened her skirt, composed herself. She was now on the phone in her office, with her legs up on the desk.

"I literally have no idea what you're talking about."

"House and I got trapped in an elevator together. Are you honestly saying you weren't behind it?"

"Darling, pulling a Fire Alarm lever is one thing. Stopping an elevator is a whole other level of subterfuge."

"Huh," Cuddy said, skeptically.

"So how long were you two trapped in this elevator?" Arlene said, leadingly.

"A little over an hour," Cuddy said.

"And how long before you were all over each other?" Arlene said.

"Mom! None of your business."

"I knew it. You two kids can't keep your hands off each other."

"So you _were_ behind this."

"Believe that if it makes you feel better. I prefer to look at it as a bit of divine intervention."

#####

At the end of the day, House stopped by her office.

Unlike her, he hadn't bothered to comb his hair or straighten his appearance since the elevator. Then again, he pretty much always looked like he had just had sex.

"Hi," he said, smiling a bit.

"Hi," she said, feeling suddenly shy.

"Any further intel on the elevator?" House said.

"My mom claims she was not behind it," Cuddy said.

"And you believe her?"

"Not a chance," Cuddy said.

House shrugged.

"Then thank you, Arlene Cuddy," he said.

Cuddy laughed a bit.

"I can't believe we did it in an elevator," she whispered.

"Me neither.. . .But I'd like to do it again."

"Have sex in an elevator?"

"Well, yes, that. Definitely. But also be with you. Talk to you again. Maybe . . . over dinner tonight?"

He looked up at her hopefully.

"I could get a sitter. . . " Cuddy said.

"Yes!"

"And Nastasha?"

"Dominika," House corrected. "Not a factor. For me at least. You?"

"A factor," Cuddy said, honestly. "And the pills, too. But one step at a time, as they say."

"Good," House said, rocking a bit between his cane and his good leg. "So I'll see you tonight then? 8 o clock?"

"Eight o clock," she said. "Sounds good."

He started to leave, then stopped.

"This is the best day I've had in four months," he said.

Cuddy looked at him thoughtfully.

"Me too," she said.

EPILOGUE

When he left Cuddy's office, House bumped into Lou, the head of maintenance.

Lou smiled at him.

"I see you just came out of Dr. Cuddy's office," Lou said, with a smirk.

"Correct," House said.

"So. . I earned my 500 bucks?"

"Barely. I said an hour and a half Lou. Not an hour and 10 minutes. The whole hospital almost got some free midday pay-per view."

"But it worked? You and Dr. Cuddy are back together?"

House looked wistfully at Cuddy's door.

"I'll know more tomorrow. But the good news is, she thinks her mother is behind it."

"Just like you said she would."

"For now, let's just say I'm guardedly optimistic about the future."

"Good luck, Dr. House. I always thought you two were perfect for each other."

"You and me both, Lou."

THE END


End file.
